


Surviving and Then Existing

by providentialeyes (gwennolmarie)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Life-Affirming Sex, M/M, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Tender Sex, Top John Marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 11:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: John hesitates, twitching forward, and then stilling before closing the gap quickly and pressing his ear to Arthur’s sternum.“What’re you doin'?” Arthur asks, slightly amused despite his confusion.“Need to hear it,” John says, barely reaching Arthur’s ears.“Hear what?”“Your heart.”





	Surviving and Then Existing

Arthur isn’t particularly surprised when John taps quietly on one of the beams holding up the older man’s tent.

Today had been…

Today had been bad.

A massacre, it could be called.

Though the newest members of the gang, the young married couple had fit well into the gaps of the existing dynamics.

John had been the one with the couple when they were both shot down within feet of him.

He’d come out of the bank with a hollowed look in his eyes, voice hoarse when he informed them of the deaths.

Though their losses were far fewer than the law’s.

They’d luckily been able to retrieve the bodies.

John’s hair is damp, clothes clinging in a couple of places from wet skin.

Not unusual, as John tended to bath and exit the water as quickly as possible.

They’d all been a bit bloodied but John had looked like a nightmare.

“Hey,” John says thickly, looking to either side before glancing briefly at Arthur’s face.

“You good?” Arthur asks needlessly.

John shakes his head quickly.

Arthur reaches out and guides the younger man into the tent with a gentle hand cupping John’s shoulder.

“Sit down,” Arthur says softly, nudging the younger towards the bed as he goes back to his little stool and makeshift desk in the corner, journal open atop the crate.

John slips off his boots and crawls onto the bed, bringing his legs up to sit with them crossed.

He looks lost, and Arthur is equally lost for words.

For something to say that might help ease the younger man’s troubled mind.

“Keep seein’ it,” John whispers, “Just replayin’ over and over.”

“It happens, sometimes,” Arthur says, “Your head grabs onto things you see and it takes a while for it to let those images go.”

“How long?”

Arthur shrugs, a mixture of frustration and concern brewing in him.

John rubs at his eyes.

“You cryin’?”

“I ain’t,” John bites back, voice rough.

“Not askin’ to pick on you,” Arthur reassures, “You wanna sleep here tonight?”

John’s silent for a while, still rubbing his eyes before sniffing hard and looking up.

“I can?”

“Yeah, Johnny.”

John murmurs his gratitude and strips down to his undergarments as Arthur returns to writing in his journal.

When he looks over again, the candles starting to burn out, John’s curled up tightly under the layers of Arthur’s wool blankets.

The desert tending to drop in temperature to a brisk chill.

Arthur goes to his trunk and peels off his layers down to his union suit before moving to the bed.

“Scoot,” He instructs softly and John wriggles to the edge of the mattress, lifting the blankets for Arthur.

The older man slips in and tucks the blankets in behind him to lock in the air warmed by body heat.

John hesitates, twitching forward, and then stilling before closing the gap quickly and pressing his ear to Arthur’s sternum.

  
“What’re you doin'?” Arthur asks, slightly amused despite his confusion.

“Need to hear it,” John says, barely reaching Arthur’s ears.

“Hear what?”

“Your heart.”

Arthur’s eyes close at the messy warmth that overwhelms him.

Guilt and gratitude over being thankful that John made it out of that shootout alive with how close it was to the younger man.

He slings an arm around John, squeezing the younger tightly against him, lowering his face to press his cheek against the crown of John’s head.

Gradually John’s breathing slows until the younger’s warm breaths are ghosting over Arthur’s ribs as the older man absently grazes his fingers over John’s back until he, too, falls asleep.

\--

Arthur wakes to the small, desperate noises of the younger man.

He opens his eyes, letting them adjust to the dark before focusing on the vague lines of John’s crumpled expression.

“Hey,” He murmurs, “John?”

The younger twitches against him with another distressed noise and Arthur pushes the younger back to cup John’s face with both hands.

“C’mon, John,” Arthur says, a little louder as he rubs the younger’s face, feeling the dampness of tears against the pads of his thumbs.

John’s eyes blink rapidly before opening wide, frantic and terrified.

“You’re alright, Johnny, you’re safe.”

“God,” The younger says, swallowing loudly before sniffing, “Thought you died too.”

“Nah,” Arthur whispers, “No, I ain’t goin’ down anytime soon, not if I have a say in it.”

John swallows thickly again and presses his face into one of Arthur’s hands, trying to get his stuttering breathing to level out.

Arthur continues to gently rub away the tears as they peter out, studying John’s face, the shame and guilt.

“You know it ain’t your fault,” Arthur says firmly.

“Could’ve been faster,” John mutters, bringing up a hand to cover his own face, “Why am I still worried me or you’s gonna get laid out too?”

“We ain’t. I ain’t and you ain’t,” Arthur presses his fingers against the underside of the edge of John’s jaw and lifts the younger’s face until John peers at him through parted fingers.

“I can feel your blood movin’,” Arthur says, moving his pinkies down to dig into the sides of John’s neck, feeling the younger’s pulse, “You’re awake n’ _alive,_ Johnny.”

John’s face smooths then his brows furrow, looking up at Arthur, expression conflicted.

“What?” Arthur asks quietly.

John’s sucks on his lower lip nervously before grabbing Arthur’s shoulder to lift himself and press their mouths together.

Arthur’s hands go slack against the younger’s face, hovering.

The older man re-grips John’s jaw and pulls back, looking at the younger for an explanation.

“I…” John says on an exhale, his hand on Arthur’s shoulder gripping bruisingly, “Just… _Please?_ Just tonight.”

Arthur runs his tongue over his teeth, gaze intensely trailing over John’s expression.

“Okay...” Arthur murmurs, “Okay.”

John breathes out sharply through his nose then tilts his head and presses close to the older man, their lips meeting firmly.

Arthur’s hold on the younger’s face softens, growing tender as he lets John control the kiss, his fingertips curling to play with John’s hair.

He’s not sure when John learned how to kiss like this, the light gripping of his lower lip between John’s teeth, the gentle press of the younger’s tongue against his own, encouraging and pleading at the same time.

Arthur indulges him, knows this is desperation from John, for distraction and for feeling something _good._

For feeling _alive._

Arthur moves his hands, threading them into John’s hair.

John’s leg slides between his own and Arthur twitches in surprise.

“Mm,” Arthur sighs into the kiss, wrapping John’s hair around one finger, pressing into the back of the younger’s skull with his other fingers.

John’s hand slides down from Arthur’s shoulder to the older man’s waist, curling his fingers around to Arthur’s back.

The younger’s other hand wedges under Arthur’s other side and John pushes and pulls until Arthur’s laid out on his back with John kneeling between his thighs, leaning over the older man’s body.

“This okay?” John whispers.

“There’s… Something,” Arthur takes a deep breath and swallows before reaching to the side and feeling around until his hand meets cold metal and he brings the tin back, holding it between them.

“Do you… Do you want me to…?” John asks hesitantly.

“You know how?” Arthur asks wryly.

“Yeah,” John murmurs, before squeezing Arthur’s waist and pushing his hips down against the older man’s, forcing Arthur’s legs further apart, “I do.”

John takes the tin in one hand and rocks his hips, re-fitting their mouths together, faster and rougher.

More teeth.

Their cloth-covered cocks rubbing.

Arthur pants in the brief gaps between kisses.

Trying to stay quiet, but so eager to encourage the younger man.

John gets a soft groan out of him when the younger’s hand slides between them and John pulls back.

Palming Arthur’s cock with one hand, setting the tin aside and slipping the buttons out of their slots to expose Arthur’s chest.

He pulls down on the fabric, Arthur lifting himself when needed so John can strip him completely, tossing the undergarment to the side, getting a small noise of protest from Arthur before it’s cut off with a gasp.

He hadn’t seen John open the tin, or coat his fingers.

But he feels the slide of a gel-coated fist gripping around his cock and quickly raises his hand to bite into the meat at the base of his thumb.

He can see the concentration on John’s face as the younger’s fingers explore, gradually making their way down to circle Arthur’s hole.

Gentle, as they work him open, sliding in and rubbing out on all sides.

Twisting, pushing, curling.

Arthur grunting against his hand, hips rocking into the pressure, a satisfying stretch of two or three fingers inside of him, he’s not sure.

Distracted by the building heat in his gut, the hazy feeling coating his thoughts like molasses.

“John,” He whispers against his skin.

“That feel good, Artie?” John asks and Arthur’s initial reaction is defensive.

Not wanting to admit it, pride like a cork in his throat.

But John’s tone is genuine, curious, and a little uncertain.

“Yeah,” Arthur mutters, “C’mon, Johnny, ain’t gonna last long.”

“S’it been a while?” John asks softly as he slowly slips his fingers out, and Arthur feels three, then.

Arthur grunts an affirmation and brings his legs up, bending his knees until his heels are close to his ass.

John moves away to wrestle the clothes off his body, coming back to grip the underside of Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur breathes in sharply through his nose when he feels the heat of John’s cock against his balls.

John lines them up and works himself in slowly, Arthur’s legs tensing against his hands, the older man’s soft stomach flexing when Arthur lifts his hips up, getting John inside him deeper, faster.

 _“Christ,”_ John whispers and shuffles forward, bending Arthur’s knees towards the older man’s chest.

He pulls back, just a little, then rolls his hips to push back in.

Arthur murmurs the younger man’s name, free hand moving to cover one of John’s.

John twists his hand, managing to grasp a few of Arthur’s fingers while still cupping the older man’s thigh.

He rocks his hips shallowly, gradually increasing the amount he pulls out before grinding back in.

Incrementally he thrusts in harder, quicker, fingers digging into Arthur’s flesh harsher.

They’re both grunting and groaning, stifled and bitten-back.

John moves the hand not intertwined with Arthur’s to jerk-off the older man as his own hips stutter.

“Arthur,” John whispers, bending down to kiss the older man’s upper stomach before lifting to look at Arthur seriously, “Wanna watch you... Wanna see you get off.”

Arthur swallows loudly and bites down to muffle a small sound.

Something more desperate than he’d ever want to admit.

Something more open and trusting.

Something he’d never let slip if it were anyone but John.

He feels his jaw twinge with how hard he’s digging his teeth into his hand, trying not to groan as loudly as his throat is wanting to sound out as he comes.

John’s fingers moving over his length, gripping and pulling up towards the head to squeeze every last drop of spend out of him.

When Arthur’s hand moves away from the older man’s mouth, John gives in, clutches at Arthur’s sides, dropping his head down.

Listening to Arthur’s racing heartbeat.

He can feel his own heart beating twice a second as his face scrunches up and he rubs his face against Arthur, biting down on his inner cheek before pulling out and adding to the mess on Arthur’s stomach.

He stays like that, listening, as he catches his breath.

One of Arthur’s hands strokes over his hair gently when his breath starts hitching.

He pulls back, wiping his face roughly with his forearm, grabbing a handkerchief and climbing back over Arthur, wiping them both as clean as he can.

Arthur’s surprised at the tender care John puts into the simple action, the consideration he doesn’t usually associate with the wild-hearted younger man.

John drops the cloth onto the ground beside the bed and moves to lay down, half on top of and half next to Arthur.

“Thank you,” John murmurs.

Arthur clears his throat quietly, awkwardly wrapping his arm around John.

“No problem…”

“Not just… Not just for that,” John whispers, “For everythin'. For bein’ here.”

Arthur’s ribcage feels too small as those words process in his head.

He tilts his head to press his lips to the crown of John’s head.

“I’ll always be here, John.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhh man this legit made me cry which is  
> becoming a trend lmao every time i write this tender shit  
> ugh well  
> socials @gwennolmarie


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